


Second First Kiss

by hyucksie (renjunlite), renjunlite



Series: Time Bound [2]
Category: K-pop, NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, College, Crack, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, Suggestive Themes, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:09:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25672585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renjunlite/pseuds/hyucksie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/renjunlite/pseuds/renjunlite
Summary: Mark found out he wasn’t your first kiss, and he’s petty enough to travel back to the past just to change that fact.Happy Mark day! This is a sequel to“In The Long Run!”link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24368326/. You can try reading this as a standalone, but it’ll definitely make more sense if you’ve read ITLR before.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Reader, Mark Lee (NCT)/Reader
Series: Time Bound [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759402
Comments: 8
Kudos: 38





	Second First Kiss

That’s your boy.

His bright almond-shaped eyes were out of sight, but his long dark lashes that fluttered gingerly whenever he stirred from slumber did just as good a job of sprinkling your heart with a light, feathery feeling you could only describe as fairy dust. 

_Magic_ whenever his pink parted lips mumbled something in his jumble of languages, _magic_ as his chest rose and fell with his breathing. You wanted to collect his little puffs of breath in a bottle and push it against your ear, eavesdrop on his dreamland conversations and hope they were all sweet and gentle like him, sweet and gentle like the way his sleeping features put your heart at ease.

And then long fingers carded between yours, tearing your gaze away from the rearview mirror as your hand was pulled to rest against a sturdy knee.

That was your boy sleeping in the backseat, and so was the one driving beside you.

Mark’s eyes were fixed on the road as yours were fixed on him. Almond-shaped eyes, bright. The lashes long, dark, and pretty. Pink lips with the same gentle curve, parting as he spoke.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so lovestruck,” he whispered. “I feel a little jealous.” 

You smiled, rolling your eyes. “I’ve been looking at you the same way for years. That gives you the biggest head start on him, don’t you think?” 

He bit at his lip at your response, trying to hide the grin you roused out of him. “With the way you keep staring… I’m not sure,” he bluffed. 

No answer came from you save from the light squeeze of your fingers as your driveway came into view. You heard shuffling from the back, and you turned to find Noah now fully reclined, his small legs bent snug to his tummy as he slept soundly.

“He looks so much like you,” you mumbled, eyes trailing through the faint moles on the little boy’s face and neck. “It’s like I have two of you.” You made no effort to mask the wonder that flowed in your voice, the awe painted over your face whenever you were struck by their similarity.

You nestled the same warm emotions in your chest as you watched your husband carry the sleeping boy into the house, careful not to wake him, laying him down on his bed like he was the most delicate thing in the world. Mark kneeled as he pulled the covers, cupping your son’s shoulders and rubbing them gently as he placed a soft kiss to Noah’s forehead. You adored the sight before you, the love welling up inside as you tried to jot in memory every detail you could pick up on, hoping to keep a mental snapshot of the moment.

Mark didn’t move from his spot, and you tiptoed over to rest your hands on his shoulders, coaxing him to look up at your face with those big round eyes of his. 

“Now who’s lovestruck?” you taunted, the trace of a leer on your lips. He didn’t seem to mind the teasing as he placed his fingers on top of yours, pulling forward before landing his lips on the back of your hand. Once, twice. 

“Me,” he answered, eyes never leaving yours. “All me.”

It was a small gesture, but it was just enough to push you over the tipping point. Your gaze flicked to the wall, avoiding his stare as the bashful feeling spread from your chest to your neck, all the way up until you could feel the heat on your ears.

His quiet laugh drifted in the air as he stood up, your hands still linked together, his other palm nuzzling at the back of your neck, demanding your eyes back on him.

“You don’t seem to be doing any better, though…” he breathed, his indecisive gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. “And I think I want two of you, too.” 

You blinked at his veiled suggestion, swallowing when you noticed his stare settled on your mouth. He knocked his forehead gently on yours, and you closed your eyes at the feeling of his warm breath against you, his fingers combing further up your hair, his other hand leading your arm around his waist as he sank into your space, lips inching closer and closer and—

_Brrng, brrng._

With your eyes still closed, the buzzing sound drew your brows together in confusion.

_Brrng, brrng._

Slowly, you fluttered them open, vision invaded by a sea of white. 

_Brrng, brrng._

Soft, smelling a lot like the laundry detergent you used…

_Brrng, brrng._

The realization trickled in slowly, and then burst all at once. 

You lifted your face from the pillow, the morning sun caressing your face back to reality, grounding you from yet another one of _those_ dreams. You’ve been having them ever since you jumped back from the future, one after the other growing more frequent and so, _so_ vivid that you sometimes wondered if they really were just dreams.

_Brrng, brrng._

You blinked away your bleary vision, hand reaching over to the bedside table.

_Brrng, brrng—_

“Hello?” You didn’t read the caller ID before picking up, but for the past few months your hunch has never proven wrong.

“Morning! ...baby.” The vibrant voice chirped at you, belatedly attaching the nickname, his hesitation palpable even through the phone.

You rubbed at your eyes, smiling. “Good morning, Mark.” Getting yanked out of heart-racing dreams wasn’t too bad when you were greeted by the real thing as soon as you woke up.

“Are we there yet?” You smiled even wider at his familiar question, eyes shifting to the wall clock. _9:00 a.m._ it informed you. 

It’s been months after you met Noah, months after you and Mark went to the future together to discover just that: _your_ future together. Each morning since then, you’ve stopped setting alarms in favor of your best friend taking over the job himself, waking you up with a morning call and the same question everyday.

For the most part, Mark did good on his word that you could “take it as slow as you want.” Asking “Are we there yet?” was his roundabout way of prodding at the topic of taking your relationship to the next, inevitable level; if the “long run” was finally over and he can officially call you his girlfriend (“Without the space between girl and friend!” he clarified once before).

“Not yet.” you answered, prompting a soft exhale from the other end of the call.

It was a little heart-wrenching to turn him down the first few times, but he always took it with grace until it stewed into a steady routine, always respecting your wishes and leaving the question open for another day.

Today, though, you noticed his unusual silence after your denial. “Did I upset you?”

“No, no.” His assurance came quick. “You know I’d wait. _Patiently._ How could I get upset when I already know…” he trailed off. 

You smiled, having expected that answer on the back of your mind already, but you still asked because today was different. Today was special, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he was expecting today to be _the_ day.

“Well, I do have something for you later…” you tried, hoping to lift his spirits.

“You got me something?” You could almost see him perking up just from the sound of his voice.

“Of course I did, birthday boy,” you replied. “Kinda.”

You listened to him laugh as you got off the bed and headed for the corkboard on your desk, grabbing the end of a long written checklist dated for 08/02 before tugging it off from the tack.

“Great, now I’m tempted to ditch Jisung and go straight to yours.” Although you knew they were empty words, your eyes still widened with worry at his remark. Jisung was, after all, vital to keeping today’s plan intact.

“Don’t you dare,” you threatened, eyes going over the half-done checklist on your hand. “The poor thing would cry.” 

That was a lie. If anything, Jisung would probably cry of _relief_ to be freed from this burden. He was the red herring, the person assigned to keep Mark occupied while you arranged for his surprise party.

“I know, I know. I just don’t get why he needs me to tutor him _today.”_ You nibbled on your lip, realizing how questionable the timing seemed, thoughts racing on how to fend off any suspicions.

“His entrance exam is coming up this week,” you reminded him. “He just doesn’t want to disappoint.” 

That was another lie. Jisung, talented boy that he was, already got in through early admission. With his stellar grades and several pages’ worth of prestigious dance competitions that he won national and abroad, the performing arts college practically drooled over his application papers, or so you liked to imagine.

But Mark doesn’t need to know all that just yet.

“The kid’s really anxious to follow in your footsteps, you know?” That was the nail to the coffin as silence shrouded the call. Although your guilt tactics won you a little victory, you didn’t smile as the effects ricocheted back to you, a heavy feeling sitting on your chest. It was his birthday, after all.

“You can just come over right after,” you soothed.

“That’s the plan,” he sighed. “At least I have something to look forward to.” Your smile crept back up at his response.

“Don’t get too distracted, though.” You didn’t want him to rush his “tutoring session,” your list in hand reminding you that you needed every second you could get to have everything ready on time. 

“Maybe if you gave me a hint…?” Mark proposed, prying you out of your thoughts.

“No hints!” Another exhale came from his end and you copied him, mock sighing into your phone with a pout to match, chuckling when you heard his frustrated groan. 

“Okay, maybe one,” you relented before you could think. You wet your lips as you mulled the words over in your head, the hesitation poking at you and pulling a barrier up your throat. “You…”

“I...?”

“We…”

“We...?”

“Um, just, you and, uh…”

“What? What is it—”

_Beep._

You hung up on him, heart in your mouth. Frantically, you shot him a text before he could call you back.

> **You:** Later! Promise.  
>  **You:** Happy birthday!  
>  **You:** And tell Jisung I said hi!

You clutched your phone to your chest, agonizing over your botched attempt. _‘You’re almost there,’_ you wanted to say. _‘If it’s this hard to tell him through a call…’_

Just as predicted, you were bombarded with multiple _pings!_ resounding from your phone shortly after your texts. You swiped Mark’s notifications away, pressing on a different name that you urgently needed to contact, surprised that he picked up on the first ring.

“Hey, Jeno—yeah, it’s all clear. Tell Jaems not to forget the—yeah, yeah I _know._ Tell him not to forget—is that Hyuck? Why is he screaming? Did he get the cake already? Great. And Renjun and Chenle? Have you picked them up? Wait, I was supposed to say something… _right,_ Jaems! Tell him not to forget the—”

“Photos…” You frowned, the line suddenly cutting off with shrieks in the background. “Got myself one hell of a team.”

A small glint caught your eye as you muttered to yourself. Your gaze landed on the round mirror you kept on your desk. It reflected the deep red rock hanging against the skin of your chest, the sunlight bouncing in the room giving the gem’s edges flame-like tongues as it moved with every rise and fall of your chest, like your troubled breathing was fanning its embers to life.

You thumbed at the garnet pendant of the necklace. “If all goes wrong, I still have you.” It was a reminder that you had every ticking second you needed right there in that small orb, its colors cooling down as your breaths evened out. 

With a renewed calmness and certainty, you nodded to yourself.

“Right. Time to get this house in order.”

* * *

Several hours later, you realized that “order” was not on the guest list.

Simply put, the house was an utter mess.

Actually, no. That would be an insult to Jeno and Chenle’s efforts, who admittedly outdid themselves with the decorations. It was a long fight of blue and silver versus red and green at the party needs store, they told you. Chenle was still huffy about his watermelon theme getting voted out, but you were secretly chipper that the place didn’t end up looking like a Christmas gathering. The slight shimmer of the midnight blue balloons worked well with the metallic silver streamers. Little gold buntings that spelled out “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” cascaded the walls and huge cardboard numbers two and one stood painted in white at the center of it all.

So no, the house itself wasn’t a mess. To put it more accurately, it was the _people_ inside who were chaos walking.

“Should I lock the door? I think we should lock the door.” Your eyes shot to Jungwoo who already had his hand on the doorknob. 

“Woo, don’t!” Your feet padded over to where he stood, grabbing his wrist as he squinted his eyes at you. “How is Mark supposed to get in if it’s locked?” His eyes slowly grew wider as he absorbed the explanation, and they haven’t even fully opened yet before you heard Taeyong drawl from the couch.

He was sprawled on his back, one leg raised over the backrest. “W-why? Why the lights? They’re… _off?”_ His voice grew louder with each word. “Turn them on! Let there be liiiiiiiight—” 

The rest of his prolonged shout was muffled by Johnny’s palm. Jaehyun stood beside them, snorting whatever murky liquid he had in his red solo cup out of his nose.

“Of all people, _”_ you pointed at Taeyong’s concerning green complexion, “why is _he_ already drunk before the party?”

“Uh, pre-game?” Johnny shot you an apologetic smile.

“He _swore_ that his tolerance is higher than one shot now,” Jaehyun shrugged. “So we gave him two.”

You heaved a deep breath, fingers pressing on your temples. “Okay. This is fine. This is _dandy_. Just,” you gestured to the kitchen, “take the bin from there in case he feels sick.” You summoned the eeriest smile on your face, gaze pressed hard on Jaehyun. “And if he pukes on my mom’s mid-century ornate carpet, I’m making you clean it with a toothbrush.”

“Wait, why me? It wasn’t my idea— _oof!”_ Jaehyun’s face contorted in pain, his body folding over after Johnny’s elbow knocked the protest out of his lungs.

“You heard her, dude. It’s the bin or the toothbrush for you.” Johnny pushed at Jaehyun’s hip, the younger grumbling with a hand still clutched to his stomach as he dragged himself to the kitchen.

With a pinch to the bridge of your nose, you walked over to the dining table. Your shoulders untensed at the sight and scent of bountiful food, a balm to your agitated state.

“Ooh, look at her smile!” Jaemin’s voice rang with its usual lilt as he slid over to your side, squeezing your arm in his hand. “Come on, say it. Say it!” 

“You’re a lifesaver, Jaem.” He truly was with the amount of food he managed to put on the table all by himself, but he didn’t get to feed off the praise for too long as a complaint erupted from your other side.

“What about me?” Renjun asked, arms crossed.

“He helped chop the vegetables,” was Jaemin’s monotone report.

“The watermelon too!” Renjun was quick to add. “That alone makes me the key figure here.”

Jaemin scoffed beside you, but you interrupted whatever retort he had bubbling as you pulled both of them into a tight hug, swaying your bodies together and showering them with thank you’s.

You didn’t talk to your old high school friends as much as you'd like since all of you were sucked deep into the busy rhythm of college. Jeno and Jaemin were at least within the same city as you and Mark. On the other hand, Renjun and Chenle were getting their degrees back in their home country, extending their vacation stay just so they could celebrate Mark’s birthday. Jisung, being the youngest, was yet to enter the same university you were in. And that would leave—

“Why is there a group hug and why wasn’t I invited?”

“Hyuck!” The sound of his voice was enough for your grip to loosen on the two other boys, encasing your arms on the new arrival instead, giving him his own personal bear hug.

He laughed at your eager welcome, and one look at his sunny expression was enough to see that he was eating up the attention. “Looks like _someone_ missed me.”

You did. Donghyuck was your oldest friend, second only to Mark. He was also your closest confidante, sharing a few secrets between yourselves that even Mark wasn’t privy to. Although you knew each other like the backs of your hands, there were still things you found difficult to divulge to Mark, especially when you were still lower in age and higher in insecurities. That’s where Hyuck came in, with his skewed smile and boyish charisma, his muted reliability and fierce loyalty that never allowed you to feel ashamed or embarrassed by yourself. You still kept in touch despite the four hour drive that separated you, but even a slew of smirking purple emojis couldn’t be compared to seeing the devil himself.

“Cake’s ready,” he said, dragging you back to the present. “Sure you don’t want me to smash his face on it? That should surprise him for sure.” You pushed him off of you, scrunching your nose at his proposition.

“No, that would be a waste of good cake,” you reasoned as he shrugged, tipping his head to the side in agreement. 

“Where’s my thank you, though?”

“Thank you, Hyuckie—”

“Uh-uh.” He cut you off with his finger on your lips, tilting his face to the side and lifting the same digit to his cheek, pointing and poking at the soft skin. You sighed, but surrendered easily just because you haven’t seen him in a long time. You stood on your toes, lips puckered and ready as you leaned in closer, but the sound of sharp claps tipped you off your balance, stumbling over Hyuck and making him scramble backwards, stringing you along with him before your hands grabbed at his arms to steady yourself.

“Okay, places everyone!” Your attention turned to Jeno in the living room. “Jisung just texted. They’re almost here.” Without a second glance back at Hyuck, your hands dropped their hold on him, your feet beelining towards Jeno.

You tapped on Jeno’s shoulder, and without waiting for him to register your presence, you landed a swift kiss on his cheek, his hand slapping over the affronted spot as soon as you broke off. You looked over your shoulder to find Hyuck rolling his eyes behind you while Jeno was left a sputtering mess rooted in his spot, your little drama scene but background noise to the commotion of 20 or so people gathering around you.

Once everyone was just about settled, Taeil’s voice rang near the door. “Uh, friends?” He eyed you warily, gaze flickering to the others in the crowd when your eyes met. You noticed the drawn curtain next to him, a clear view of the road and a familiar car parked out front. “I, um, I think Mark just saw me through the window?” 

“What were you doing there!” It was Doyoung who beat you to the question, grabbing the elder by the shoulders and pulling him out of sight.

Taeil shot his arms up as if in surrender. “I was peeking! You know, if he was getting closer?” The room bellowed in moans and groans at his explanation. “What! I was being discreet,” he defended, fingers scratching at his orange hair.

“There is _nothing_ discreet about you,” Doyoung griped. “If you sat in the middle of the road, you could pass for a traffic cone.” 

The dig sparked a flurry more to follow, the bickering going back and forth between the two of them until Jungwoo’s name was inexplicably thrown into the mix, adding fuel to the fire. The room descended into its previous chaos as more and more voices tried to overpower each other, like a boiling kettle breaching the brink of pressure, its whistling sound sharp and painful to the ears, pitch growing higher and higher until suddenly: silence.

The door opened amidst the mayhem, revealing Mark and a wide eyed Jisung in tow.

“I knew it! I knew I saw something orange and—wow. There’s a _lot_ of you.” Mark stepped inside after taking his shoes off, stopping a few steps beyond the door to survey the people in front of him. His friends, all of them—high school, college, church. “Oh my god, everyone’s here.” His eyes landed on you, smile tugging at his lips. “Was this the ‘something’ you got for me?” 

You couldn’t find it in yourself to answer, partly because of the disappointment that the surprise was ruined, but mostly because like the stuff of horror movies, the door began slowly and silently closing behind Mark. _‘By itself,’_ or so you thought before it stretched far enough to reveal Yuta pushing behind it, a menacing look in his wild eyes, nimble as he inched towards Mark. “Why is everyone so quiet though—”

_“Bah!”_

_“Jesus!”_ Mark jumped and fell backwards, Yuta’s ready arms catching him in an embrace and dipping him by the waist in one smooth motion, your brain glitching at the spectacle that resembled a strange mix between Cinderella and The Lion King.

Only Hyuck had the wits on him to take advantage of the moment, leading the group into an impromptu “Surpriiiiiiiiise!” as Mark picked himself up, too dazed to do anything about Yuta still clinging behind him.

Chenle and Jaemin fumbled with the party poppers, scaring themselves as they blasted the confetti over Mark’s head with zero synchronization. The happy birthday song was just as lawless, the words sounding like anything but “happy birthday” as the pitches ran haywire, scattered hoots and snorts shooting in at the most random intervals.

Calamity swirled in your living room: the rain in bits of bright paper gliding down the air, thunder in the ruckus of song and noise and laughter, and you at the center of it all, watching as your best friend was pushed by a wave of hands to the eye of the storm where you stood waiting.

It was an odd calmness that his presence brought you. There was nothing but his eyes on yours, the familiar scent of his shirt, and one of the brightest smiles you’ve ever seen him wear. His arms opened before you, and you didn’t have to think as your body moved forward, as if you’ve been yearning for a bit of rest all day and you’ve finally, finally found home as you melted in his touch.

“Happy birthday,” you mumbled, nose nuzzled on his chest and eyes fluttering closed as he pulled you in tighter, waiting to ride out the uproar locked in the safety of his arms.

* * *

You would’ve been stuck in Mark’s embrace until the next morning if you waited for the chaos to die down. Not that you would mind that, but with Hyuck instigating the dumbest dares, Jaehyun getting everyone hammered with his nasty cocktails, and Taeyong just about ready to run through the house naked at the promise of french fries from Johnny, you thought it best to escape to a tamer corner of the house, at the hallway near your parents’ bedroom.

“What’s this?” Mark flipped the paper over in his hand, eyebrows scrunching in to find both sides of it blank. It was no mistake. You handed him a piece of empty stationery paper as his birthday gift.

“It’s a free wish card,” you explained. “You can use it to ask me for whatever you want.” His eyebrows raised, and you imagined all the ridiculous ideas swimming in his mind before adding “Within reasonable boundaries! Sorry, I didn’t have enough time to buy you something.”

He shook his head before tucking the paper snug in his pocket. “You didn’t even have to, this is already so much…” His eyes drifted to the wall in front of him. “You really went all out, huh?” There were a number of frames stuck haphazardly on its surface, much like the ones scattered through the rest of the house. 

It was all photos of him, from childhood all the way to college, that you asked Jaemin to collect and reprint to bigger sizes. He traced the lower edges of each one, his finger making a thumping sound whenever it landed on the wall after each frame ended. The rhythm stopped when he reached a particular photo, a bit larger than the other ones. 

“Why did you choose _this_ picture?” He kept his finger on the photo in question, a small frown tugging at his lips. You glanced at it yourself, raising an eyebrow and shrugging.

“What do you mean? It was your _coronation.”_ As prom king, you meant. He looked dazzling in his black tuxedo, the maroon bow tie matching the corner fold of his pocket square, the fake gold of the crown looking elegant as it sat atop his head.

“I’d like it better if it was with you,” he mumbled.

You hummed at his comment, gaze stuck between the white rose corsage pinned to his lapel and the matching one on the wrist of the prom queen, with red sheer ribbons looping gracefully around the flower buds and on her skin. “We didn’t take any photos together on that night.”

“We didn’t?” He ripped his eyes from the photo, looking at you. “No way.”

“Yeah way.” You smiled at his unbelieving eyes before peeking at the photo once more. It captured the moment with Mark baring his toothy laugh at the girl with charming eyes, her smooth skin stark against her crimson gown, her famously bewitching smile that snagged everyone’s attention back in high school trained intently on him and him alone. 

“You took Mina, and Hyuck took me,” you recalled. “We didn’t even talk through the whole thing.”

“Seriously?” Mark frowned even deeper, unsure why he felt so disappointed over the matter like it only happened yesterday. “That was… dumb.” He kept his stare on you as you studied the picture, seeing the bright red of her gown reflecting on your orbs, your pupils flickering left and right between the two of them. 

“Nah, that’s how it was supposed to be,” you answered a few seconds late. Mark furrowed his eyebrows again, pushing you to explain when your gaze landed on his confused expression. “It’s just high school logic. You were the most popular guy, of course you’d pair up with the prettiest girl in our grade.”

His puzzled features refused to unfurl at your reasoning. He blinked at you, then glanced at the frame, and then back on you again. _“You’re_ the prettiest though.” 

His assertion was so matter-of-fact, and so easily did it slip out of him that his composure seemed to fluster you more than his comment. “That wasn’t what you said back then.” You shifted your eyes back to the wall. “Don’t you remember screaming my ear off when Mina said yes? You even had me help you with your elaborate promposal, droning on and on for _days_ about how she was your _dream girl—”_

“God, I was _stupid.”_ Your breath clogged in your throat when you felt his forehead drop on your shoulder.

“No,” you whispered. “You were just being honest about your feelings.”

“I still am, though.” He continued the conversation with his head still nestled against you, goosebumps rising on the skin of your shoulder as you felt the warmth from his breath.

“In love with Mina?” you provoked with a smirk, bidding to flip the conversation back to your favor. The attempt was successful, if the way he almost bumped his head on your chin as he lifted his gaze was anything to go by.

“No! Absolutely not.” His vehement denial only served to make you crack up. “Dang it,” he tittered, your giggles stringing him along before he gulped, swallowing the laughter down. “I wasn’t in love…” he mumbled, “and I was talking about being _honest._ Dead honest, you’re the only girl I see now.” If he was trying to kill off your laughter too, the attempt was successful.

“I wouldn’t call you my dream girl—” he paused, seeing your accusing eyebrow. “I’m not done yet!” You waved him off, urging him to continue. “I wouldn’t call you that because you don’t feel like a dream.”

You could see where he was going, but you wanted to milk the situation for all it was worth. “So, you mean to say… I’m a nightmare?”

“Oh my _god.”_ There was no restraining your laughter this time as Mark dragged his palms over his face. “Dude, this is already so hard, can you not?” His hands landed on your arms, turning your body to face his, shaking you a little in his hold. He sighed when you finally calmed down again, making sure to tip your chin up so that your eyes were trained on his.

“You’re just so— _real._ I’ve had crushes before, but what I feel for you—”

A screech broke through the moment, the sound suspiciously similar to Taeil’s pitch perfect high note. You didn’t get a chance to investigate as Mark pulled you by the wrist, dragging you to the nearest private space which happened to be your parents’ bedroom.

“What the hell?” He shut the door behind you and placed his hand on your lower back, pushing you towards your mom’s large vanity table, lifting you by the hips and sitting you down on it before he explained himself.

“I couldn’t do it out there,” he breathed, leaning down a bit closer to you, his hands resting gingerly on top of your knees. “You’re not this… _idea_ I have in my head. You’re you, and I _know_ you.” He licked his lips, struggling to keep his gaze straight. “I know everything about you, and I—I want all of it. Just… the _entirety_ of you makes me feel… like I’ve found my place and I don’t need my head up in the clouds anymore.” 

He caged your hands in his, resting them on his chest. “I could stay down here with you and just breathe and be me while you’re you and I… feel so alive and happy and in love and so _real.”_ You felt his heartbeat through his shirt. _Real._ You were holding his heart in your hands, and your own was thrashing around inside you, trying to break free, yearning to beat right next to his. “You’re not my dream girl.” He shook his head. “You’re real and you’re _my_ girl.” 

Your breath hitched and Mark realized what he just said, dropping your hands in an instant. “I mean, not yet but—”

“Mark.” You took one of his hands in yours again.

“Yeah?” The red was spreading through his cheeks, on his ears.

“We’re here,” you murmured to his confusion. His neck craned from side to side, as if searching for something in the room. _“Mark,”_ you tried again, your other hand rising to his head, gently knocking your knuckles on him as if to wake him up. This time, you pressed his hand to your heart. “We’re _here.”_

The levels of realization were clearly painted on his face. It was the answer he’s been waiting for every morning, and he couldn’t even recognize it.

“Oh,” he mumbled, blinking. “We’re _there_ now?” You nodded. “Oh shit.” His eyes were fixed on where you held his hand. “Wait, LOL.”

“Did you just say ‘LOL’?” You dropped him quickly, jumping off the table. “I thought you wanted this…” you muttered, walking towards the door.

“Wait, shit, come back!” You didn’t make it past three steps before his arms wrapped around your middle, pivoting you on your heel and burying you into a hug. “I _do_ want this. More than anything.” He lifted your chin up, indecisive gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. “You… more than anything.”

You’ve seen that look before… but you can’t remember where, the thought vanishing when you noticed his stare settle on your mouth.

“Can—can I?” You couldn’t offer any words, breath stolen from you from how close he was. Instead, your answered with your hand pulling him down by the back of his neck, surprising him with the collision. Your lips slanted on his, languid as you familiarized yourself with the way his mouth fit against yours. 

It was slow, and it was burning. Your lips, your skin, your heart. They were all engulfed in a heat that didn’t scare you, in a heat that felt like the warmth of a fireplace in winter or the sun in the middle of a long awaited summer.

And it wasn’t enough, wasn’t nearly enough when he broke apart from you to breathe. You wanted to jump into the fire, to burst into flames around him and engulf him in the same blazing heat that was rising within you. So you tugged at his shirt, pulling him back closer as you demanded, “Again.”

There were no more thoughts left in your head as his lips brushed on yours, his warmth washing over you. You felt his knee pushing against yours, and you let him lead you backwards, stumbling in your steps before you hit the foot of the bed and you broke the kiss once more. 

You slid up on the mattress, Mark lying down next to you and pulling you by the hip, laying you gently on your side. His hand goes up to the back of your neck, guiding you back on his lips again, squeezing his hold on you when you slipped your tongue into his mouth, kissing him until his lips were tender and red, red, _red_ like the way you would picture a sunset on its final seconds.

“God, you’re good at this,” he gasped. You didn’t know how long it’s been when his lips parted from yours, and you had half a mind to chase them back again, but your eyes wound up to his dazed expression.

“What are you thinking about?” you whispered, eyes flitting to the little indention of teeth marks on his lower lip that were slowly swelling back to normal, making you want to give him a new set.

“How I’ll remember this forever,” he answered, a hand rubbing on your arm. “It’s so _unreal.”_

“Really? After that whole _real_ speech?”

 _“Unbelievable,”_ he corrected with a weak roll of his eyes. “You’re my… girlfriend.” Your heart fluttered at the word. “And my first kiss.”

“What?” You were pulled out of the haze by his sudden admission, and he was just as surprised by your reaction. His hand went tense, now hovered just above your skin, as if he was afraid to touch you even after kissing your breath away.

“Oh, should I not call you that yet? Sorry—”

“No, no. I _am_ your girlfriend, boyfriend.” You didn’t miss the small smile he tried to bite down. “But that was your first kiss?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Wasn’t it yours?”

“No…”

You jumped a little as he abruptly sat on the bed, propping himself up on his elbow. “You’ve _kissed_ someone before?”

“That’s a little offensive.” You frowned at him, rolling over to your other side, leaving him facing your back. 

“No, I mean— _who?”_ He shook at your shoulders, but you made no move to look at him as you answered.

“Donghyuck.”

“D-dong…” He sounded like he was choking on his spit, and you were about to look over your shoulder in concern until his hand beat you to it and flipped you on your back. _“Haechan?”_ He was now sitting up straight, his round eyes bulging at you. “Why? When? How?”

You raised an eyebrow at his bewildered look. “I can only answer one of those. Prom night.”

“Prom night?”

“Yeah.”

“But _why?”_ His hands plopped down on the bed, shoulders sagging as he frowned at you, his look making you feel… guilty?

“I—I don’t know! It was after the slow dance and he took me out under the stars and…” His frown tugged deeper. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“That you’re joking,” he pouted.

“I’m not, though.” You sat up on the bed as well, shifting around until you had your legs tucked under your knees, facing him and cupping his face with your hands. “You can be my second first kiss?” You kissed on his nose, his chin, his cheeks, your tiny attacks distracting you from the way his eyes trailed down your skin after each one, slowly but surely landing on what he was looking for: your necklace.

“We can fix that though…” he mumbled.

“Fix what?” you whispered back, placing butterfly kisses on his jaw, freezing when you felt his fingers grab at the pendant. You pulled back, and the glint in his eyes was unmistakable as he answered.

“The past.”


End file.
